


It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

by mvernet



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sentinel Thursday Prompt Fic- Dark, Teacher Blair, Troubled Student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 09:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: Blair is grading essays and finds a troubled student who needs his help.This idea blatantly stolen from Bluewolf’s, It Was A Dark And Stormy Night.  https://sentinel-thurs.livejournal.com/1040744.html





	It Was A Dark And Stormy Night

Blair took off his glasses for the upteenth time and rubbed his strained eyes. He was grading the essays he had given his AN 201 class, challenging them to use the old standby, It Was A Dark And Stormy Night, opening line. He planned on taking a line from each essay that was an example of modern culture that could never had been written twenty years ago and pointing it out to his class. Of course using this teaching tool meant he had to spend extra time on reading, commenting and grading the essays

 

Earlier in the evening, Blair had shared his challenge with Jim, who promptly grabbed a beer and turned on the Jags game snarking out, “Making more work for yourself? Only you, Chief.” The jags had lost miserably and a disgruntled Jim fell asleep next to Blair on the couch late in the last quarter. Blair had tucked him under his favorite blanket and was enjoying the sound of his soft snores and the feel of his hand resting on his knee as he worked.

 

Blair put his glasses back on and picked up his last essay. It was written by one of the many jocks in his class, looking for an easy ride. Blair was always a tough grader when he thought his student was trying to slide by. He opened the blue book.

 

~~~**~~~

 

Mr. Sandburg’s Challenge 

by Barry Brooks

 

It was a dark and stormy night. Which was not unusual. Nights were dark by nature and Cascade, Washington was stormy most of the time. I welcomed the stormy night. My ears were soothed by the sound of the raindrops on the old tin roof of the frat house.The house was so full of noise most of the time. I could concentrate on the rain and the grating calls of my Omega Phi brothers were drowned in the deluge. The rain dispeled the chaos and kept me company. 

 

The vibrations of the thunder rumbled through my feet and made my body tremble. I wasn’t afraid. It was a welcome release. I laid down on my bunk and closed my eyes. The thunder surrounded me. I imagined another place. I floated back to a time to where an athletic man like myself could live a simple life. I could farm the land, feel the good soil run through my fingers, instead of feeling the rough leather of a football when I threw yet another practice pass. I could listen to the birds chittering as I rested under a tree at noon, instead of cutting off the loud chatter of the campus with ear buds and an ipod full of rage and heavy metal. I longed for time in the past where I would stand on a silent hill and know when the winds were changing and a storm was coming, instead of riding on the breeze of parental expectations and athletic potential into a valley of nothing but pressure.

 

I enjoyed the rain, but lightening was cruel. Whenever the strikes hit, I kept my eyes shut tight. The electrically charged air was all around me and I could see the flash of concentrated light even with my eyes closed. I hated the feeling of being nature’s lightning rod. It seemed that the mother seeked me out on those dark, stormy nights and tortured me until I cried out that I couldn’t take any more. At least she listened to me and moved on, out of my range, out of my life.

 

The rain slowed to a drizzle and I heard the laughing words of my housemates. Mostly they talked about sports and women until they drank themselves into a wordless stupor. But that night they were wondering why I was alone in the dark. They didn’t know it was my natural state. The dumb jocks called me a wussy and worse. The ones who love being part of a team became puzzled and called me emo, as if jock and emo could not exist in the same body. The intelligent ones, there were a few, called me troubled, a lone wolf, a guy who is toeing the line and trying to make something of himself. Close enough.

 

Thankfully, the angry wind blasted, bringing more intense rain. The huge old glass windows in my room rattled as the storm raged. I lost myself in the many voices of the wind so I could block out the human words that taunted me. Weird, different, sensitive, freak. Those and other words were thrown against me and most of them stuck. I was never teflon skinned. I needed to develop a suit I could wear, one that protected me from this world and kept me dry and safe in the pouring rain.

 

The storm dialed down. The other sounds of the night were dialed up. Snores, soft whispers, quiet laughter, beer cans crushed and tossed and toilets flushing. The house cat was running after invisible mice and sounded like a tiger on the loose. As I let myself doze, I wondered if Mr. Sandburg could possibly understand if I described what it was like for me on a dark and stormy night.

 

~~~**~~~

 

Blair took off his glasses this time to wipe the tears from his eyes. He was moved and amazed by Barry’s essay. He was also embarrassed, because he couldn’t recall which jock was Barry Brooks. He kicked himself for letting his own unique brand of prejudice stop him from noticing and reaching out to a troubled student. Especially a student who could possibly be a Sentinel. He believed Barry Brooks was sent to him for a reason. It was time to put his abilities as Shaman of the great city to the test.

 

Jim frowned and mumbled in his sleep. Blair stroked his arm to comfort him. Blair knew that Jim must have felt exactly like Barry when he was his age. Jim joined the army. Blair became determined that Barry would be able to explore all his options. That the troubled young man would know he had an amazing gift and was not a freak of nature. He would tell Jim about his student and let him read the essay. If Jim thought it was a good idea he’d set up a counselling session for the three of them. 

 

Suddenly, the wind kicked up and Jim stirred, sensing the coming storm even in his sleep. Blair would wake his Sentinel as soon as the rain began to fall.


End file.
